


White Wings

by Marshmallows



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Guardian Angels, Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-24 19:00:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16181228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marshmallows/pseuds/Marshmallows
Summary: The day they met, he swore an oath that he would always protect him.





	White Wings

**Author's Note:**

> (Repost from _[Come Home Safe](https://feendrache.dreamwidth.org/2823.html)_ )

“They say he named his technique after the angel that follows him around.”

“Angel?”

“Vane.”

In an instant, the trainees scattered at the sound of his voice, standing upright to attention; but all Lancelot did was offer them a serene smile. As he walked between the gossiping pair, he gave both a weighty pat on the shoulder, and the aforementioned Vane, following behind him, flashed them each a grin as he passed. 

“You shouldn’t surprise people like that, Lan-chan…” Vane said, once they had made it back to the peace of the Captain’s tent. 

“Just keeping them on their toes,” Lancelot said softly. 

“You don’t change, do you?” Vane said, planting his hands on his hips, but the smile on his face dampened his stern tone. 

Lancelot only answered back with a laugh, which faded into the quiet of just the two of them. Outside was a battlefield, countless young men indoctrinated to fight for their country; but here, where they were alone, was a sanctuary. His footsteps barely made a sound as Lancelot came closer, guided by the gentle glow currently illuminating the tent. 

It was just like Vane to help him without prompt.

“ _Weiss Flügel,_ ” Lancelot said, his voice a simple whisper as he stroked the wings now sprouting from Vane’s back, “White wings, as pure as snow.”

“Lan-chan?” Vane said quietly, watching his face.

“You’ve always been by my side for as long as I can remember,” Lancelot continued mumbling to his wings. 

“What’s wrong? Nostalgic?” Vane said.

“I suppose so,” Lancelot said, as he finally looked up, “I think it’s your face.”

Vane only grinned wide, “I dunno if that’s good or bad, but I’m gonna assume it’s good!”

Lancelot paused as he stared, before breaking into his own smile, “It is.”

He pulled away from him to finally light the lamp upon his table. The candle flame roared into life, but it was nothing compared to the warmth he felt by Vane’s side, Lancelot noting the retreating glow of Vane’s wings. 

“Lan-chan, I…” Vane began to say, until Lancelot turned round to face him, and Vane shook his head instead, “Never mind!”

Lancelot watched his face until Vane’s laughter died out, and said in a gentle voice, “Vane.”

In the quiet of just the two of them, Vane straightened up. He was just barely outside the reach of the lamp’s light, but Lancelot didn’t miss the red tint of his cheeks. He didn’t speak again for a moment, not until his eyes had traced over every detail of his figure and he had memorised Vane’s face.

“Please be careful.”

* * *

It had only been earlier that day. 

It had been a busy morning. Appointments and plans and distractions of all sorts, and Lancelot was glad to finally be able to stumble into his room, his arms full of books, only to find Vane staring at a photo frame.

“Vane!”

The books in his arms tumbled to the floor unceremoniously, but Lancelot was already making a beeline towards Vane.

“Oh, Lan-chan?” Vane said, turning round, feather duster in hand, “Welcome back!”

“Did you…” Lancelot said quietly.

Vane pursed his lips, his cheeks flushing red, his gaze wandering away.

“Vane…”

Vane let out a laugh, full of embarrassment, “You just looked so happy on this photo! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to stare!”

“Oh… No… Don’t be sorry…” Lancelot whispered, as he felt himself deflate.

Just behind Vane was a photo of Lancelot, his arms out to his left as if he was presenting the vast expanse of the sea behind him. The landscape looked straight out of a dream: untouched white sands, blue as far as the eye could see, an ocean as clear as crystal.

There was only one small detail. 

Despite the clear skies and lack of shade, Lancelot was partly covered in an oddly shaped shadow that shouldn’t have existed. 

“Where was this?” Vane asked brightly.

Lancelot stared at him for a moment, “…Auguste.”

“Auguste?” Vane repeated, with a tilt of his head.

“The beaches,” Lancelot said, “On an island full of water, where people use boats instead of horses. Where we chased crabs, ate lots of shaved ice, swam in a sea unlike anything we’d find in Feendrache.”

Vane paused.

Lancelot continued, his voice flooding out of him, “There was Siegfried-san and Percival too. We watched fireworks – just the two of us – up on the cliff overlooking the beach.”

Vane furrowed his brow, humming out loud as he thought, and then finally, “I’m sorry…” Vane said quietly, “That sounds really fun, but none of that seems to ring a bell for me…”

Lancelot stopped, “I see.”

“But maybe if we go there, I’ll remember it!” Vane said urgently, “It sounds like so much happened! I should remember it, right?”

“Yes,” Lancelot said, his hands by his sides closing into fists.

There was only silence. 

Perhaps he had asked for too much. He had never hid the photo, even left it in plain sight, but his heart had almost leapt out of his chest when he had spotted Vane so lost in thought. 

Perhaps he had hoped for too much.

“Ah, oh, Lan-chan! Do you want some tea?” Vane said quickly.

Lancelot was startled, “Hm? Oh no, I-”

“I’ll go brew up another pot just in case!” Vane spluttered, slamming the feather duster down onto the cabinet and marching stiffly past Lancelot.

“Vane.”

Vane froze, but still, he turned back to look at Lancelot. 

“You’ll always come back, right?” Lancelot said.

“Always,” Vane answered, without the slightest hesitation.

Immediately, Lancelot stepped forward: the small distance between them covered in merely a few broad strides.

“Hey…! That tickles!” 

Lancelot stayed still as he held Vane’s face between his hands, the tremble of his giggles prickling down his arms like lightning, even as his laughter faded into quiet and his cheeks slowly began to turn red. He quietly watched the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed, the shape of his lips as he opened his mouth and not a sound came out. Even when he looked up, his gaze flicked away, and then back, and away again.

Slowly, Lancelot pulled him in.

In the quiet of just the two of them, the pounding of his heart overtook his own voice. 

His breath, his warmth, his pulse was just underneath his fingertips. 

When he was mere inches apart, the blue of his eyes staring right into green, with the promise of something unsaid, he stopped, and tore himself away. 

Lancelot turned back round, his cape swinging with the motion.

He froze. 

Vane had caught his hand.

Not a word was exchanged, but Lancelot closed his fingers; felt the width of his hand, the calluses, the scars, the ring on his right hand. It matched the ring on his left, a perfect pair, save for the yellow zirconia in place of his sapphire.

Lancelot’s face began to crumple.

Yet they remained in place – joined, but apart.

Lancelot’s mouth opened and closed, without a sound, and then he breathed.

“Do you want to go out for lunch?”

“Huh?” Vane mumbled, “Oh. Oh, yeah, we can do.”

“I fancy something sweet!” Lancelot said cheerily, resolute steps as he breezed right past Vane.

“Lan-chan…” Vane whispered as Lancelot went by, and Lancelot came to a stop.

“How about that new place that just opened up?” Lancelot continued, “I hear their pancakes are delicious! Really soft and fluffy and warm…”

After a pause, Vane brightened up, “Yeah! Okay, sounds good!”

Lancelot spun right round, a smile upon his face, “Alright, it’s decided.”

“Meet you in half an hour?” Vane said.

Lancelot nodded, “Of course.”

They smiled at each other, a gentle laugh breaking the air, and Vane was soon on his way out. Lancelot was just shuffling the papers on his desk together, when he realised the door had yet to close.

“Lan-chan…” Vane said in a quiet voice.

“Yes?” Lancelot said, without turning.

“Is…” Vane said, “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Lancelot smiled, even though Vane couldn’t see, “Nothing at all.”

“Lan-chan…” Vane mumbled, and Lancelot heard the clench against the door handle, “I’m always around if you wanna talk.”

Lancelot hesitated for a moment, “Thank you, Vane,” he said, turning around to face him at last.

He walked up to Vane to quietly confirm when and where they’d meet, and then Lancelot closed the door behind him. He even gathered the books scattered around the entrance, promptly adding them to the nearest available pile. 

In an order long ingrained in him, his fingers worked meticulously across the buckles of his armour, plucking each piece free off his body, until he heaved a sigh as he collapsed onto the sofa in his undergarments. He cast a gaze over the mess of his room, a semblance of cleaning clearly half abandoned, and stopped upon a camera sitting atop his cabinet.

* * *

“Vane,” Lancelot said, giving him a brief wave as he approached.

Vane waved back heartily, grinning as he made his way over. Their clothing was simpler out of armour, Lancelot having much humbler origins compared to the rest of the knights. He adjusted his shoulder bag after having been sat down, and then they were on their way.

The marketplace wasn’t too far from the knights’ barracks and, considering the luscious greenery of Feendrache’s landscape, it was a light, pleasant walk in the warm afternoon sun. It was long past lunch hours by the time they made it to their destination, and Lancelot found no trouble simply walking through the entrance alongside Vane, a cheerful bell announcing their presence to the store.

“Captain Lancelot!” a plump man behind the counter said, as he looked up from the displays, “It’s an honour to meet you.”

“The pleasure is mine,” Lancelot said, a charming smile upon his lips, “What would you recommend?”

“Our eclairs have proven popular! We’re currently offering summer colours and flavours in place of the more traditional chocolate,” the man replied, gesturing to a colourful display of pastries, each covered in delicate icing.

“I’ll have a dozen of them please. Every flavour you have,” Lancelot said brightly, before pointing at a gigantic cake on the bottom shelf, “Oh, and what is this?”

“This? Our finest black forest gâteau, chock-full of jam made from fresh cherries steeped in liquor, and sandwiched between layers of fresh cream,” the man said promptly.

“I’d like one of those too, if you please,” Lancelot said, his hands pressing greedily against the glass.

“The… whole thing?” the man said, only letting the slightest lilt slip through his professionalism.

“Yes, of course!” Lancelot chirped, glancing at Vane as he leaned on his back, “Take away please, thank you very much.”

Not a moment later was Lancelot out the doors, happily holding a bag full of a lot of brightly coloured boxes that weren't pancakes. They were making their way to the nearest park, when Lancelot noticed Vane trailing behind him.

“That bakery looked so cute… I’m sorry we gotta do this every time,” Vane said sheepishly.

“And I will say this every time too. You don’t have to be sorry,” Lancelot said, “Besides, all the fresh air does one good.”

“Lan-chan…” Vane said quietly.

“Here. You should try this,” Lancelot said, coming to a stop in the middle of their walk, just to pull out an eclair from one of their many boxes. 

What he wasn’t prepared for was Vane just taking a bite out of it while it was still in his hand. Luckily, his reflexes were fast and the eclair didn’t slip right out of his hands – but that didn’t bode well for the rest of the box, Lancelot’s grip crushing down hard against its contents. 

“It’s…” Lancelot trailed off as Vane pulled back, a spot of crème pâtissière at the corner of his mouth.

“Hm?” Vane said, while casually licking it right off.

“It’s… It’s rather sunny today!” Lancelot said quickly, turning to promptly shove the eclair into his mouth before he said anything more.

He had to look up as a spot of shade passed him out of the blue. Vane was suddenly much too close, having pulled him in with the span of his wings; and if Lancelot didn’t already have an eclair in his mouth, he would have been stunned into silence.

“You gotta be careful, Lan-chan! Especially with your skin,” Vane said brightly, his wings acting as a parasol over his head.

“Vane…” Lancelot said, ducking his head down, swallowing his bite. 

In the shade of his wings, Lancelot only felt warmer; their chests barely separated by the box in Lancelot’s hand. 

“People will notice…” Lancelot mumbled.

Vane spluttered as he suddenly pulled back, “Oh yeah! Sorry! I wasn’t thinking!”

“No, wait!” Lancelot said quickly, planting his box down onto the bag of baked goods on the pavement, “We can take a photo now.”

“Huh? But I…” Vane said.

“Come closer,” Lancelot said, pulling out a camera from his shoulder bag with the hand not holding an eclair.

Vane shuffled forward, his wings awkwardly hovering over Lancelot, so Lancelot had to be the one to close that distance, placing the eclair between them.

“Say ‘ah’!” Lancelot said, and the camera shutter sounded.

Depositing what was left of the eclair into his mouth, Lancelot examined his photo, his eyes going straight past his own face. Despite the clear skies above, he was almost eclipsed in shade, and Lancelot managed a little smile as he muttered, “Perfect.”

“It came out okay?” Vane said, stopping in the middle of stroking his wings.

Lancelot smiled brightly as he put away his camera, “Thank you for listening to my whimsies.”

“Oh no, Lan-chan! I’m more than happy to. I just wish I-”

Vane froze. Lancelot’s hand brushed against his cheek, and he mused on how fast Vane bloomed into warmth. For a moment, he stayed still, even as Vane’s wings fluttered about and folded over to hide his face.

Still, he could feel as Vane nuzzled into him, his own hand reaching up to hold Lancelot’s in place. 

“Sometimes I wonder if this is real,” Lancelot said softly, “But then I feel your warmth and I’m reminded that it is.”

“Lancelot…” Vane mumbled from the safety of his wings.

Lancelot blinked, and his hand fell back to his side.

“Here,” Lancelot said, digging in his bag of food, “I’ll get you another.”

As Lancelot approached, Vane retracted his wings with a flurry of feathers; his gaze still wandering elsewhere, unable to meet his face. The blush was still roaring on his cheeks as Vane accepted the pastry into his hand, and he chomped down onto its squashed form without another word. 

Lancelot could only smile.

“Let’s go sit down,” Lancelot said, and he dragged Vane along by his wrist.

In the tranquillity of the park on a picturesque day, they talked in close proximity for the rest of the afternoon; until they remembered with a start that they had a large cake, covered in cream, that needed to be refrigerated. Lancelot had already made his way through the entire box of crushed eclairs – something about it being his fault and it was thus his duty to make amends – yet the whole bag remained hefty. Naturally, Vane offered his assistance, and Lancelot was the one to remind him of how it would look to strangers.

They made their way back leisurely, Lancelot pondering on how much cake there was to share and Vane wondering about the recipe for everything they had just eaten. They were laughing as they entered the knights’ barracks, but as Lancelot neared his office, he stilled at the sight of a knight standing outside. 

“Captain Lancelot!” the knight said, saluting as soon as he saw him.

“At ease,” Lancelot said quietly, “What’s happened?”

“Just outside the town gates,” the knight replied, breathless with urgency, “There’s been an incident.”

Lancelot pursed his lips and nodded, “On my way.”

The knight marched off quickly, following Lancelot’s order for him to return to the field. As he left, Lancelot turned to Vane, only to see that his regular smile was absent on his face. As Vane stepped forward to open the door, Lancelot only stood and watched his form.

“Vane.”

“Yeah?” Vane said softly over his shoulder.

“I…” Lancelot began to say, but found his voice produced nothing further. Instead, he came forward to hold onto Vane, his forehead touching his broad back, and registered the warmth where they were connected, “Please be careful. Stay behind me.”

Vane turned and Lancelot fell right into his chest. He didn’t wait to wrap his arms around him. He squeezed tight, registering his mass and warmth as he buried his face into his shirt. He smelled like sunshine and freshly laundered cotton.

He felt Vane’s hand against the back of his head, his fingers in his hair, his arm around his waist. He felt so real, so warm, so safe.

“Gotcha.”

* * *

A single second. 

That was all it took.

He felt Vane pull him back. A sword piercing flesh. His blood, his life, spilling to the ground.

Countless times he’s had to witness scenes like this, over and over and over again.

Yet, every time, he was never prepared.

“Vane!!”

He needed to move. He needed his legs to move. He needed to get to him. He needed to get to Vane.

He didn’t know he had been screaming until his throat began to sting. A body obscuring his view crumpled to the floor, and he realised with a shock that he had plunged his blades into the assailant. He breathed hard, ragged and worn, before he remembered.

Vane. 

He stopped.

He remembered: every moment, every sacrifice, every mistake that led to yet another time, and yet no matter what he tried to prevent this, it would always happen. He had tried too many things to count – telling him to stay put, asking him if he remembered – and yet it was always this result. 

Lancelot sank to his knees, a hollow thunk by Vane’s side. 

As the light of day vanished over the horizon, Vane persisted, a quiet gentle glow emitting from his wings, even as the gash in his chest continued to weep.

“Lan… chan…” Vane gasped, “You’re not hurt… are you?”

Lancelot didn’t speak, a shake of his head, his hands desperately trying to keep him here with him.

“Hey… You’ve got a job to do, right? Forget about me,” Vane said, his attempt at a grin only appearing as a grimace.

“Vane, stop!” Lancelot screamed, “Why do you always do this? I’m only strong because you’re here with me! But you always do this, you always do this!”

“It’s… my…” Vane began, but then he stopped and started all over again, “It’s… because it’s you, Lan-chan.”

Lancelot was startled when he heard a rapid clanking of armour, a phalanx of knights forming in front of him, but Vane was growing cold in his arms and nothing seemed real any more.

“Hey, I’ll come back…” Vane said softly.

“But you… You won’t…” Lancelot whispered, and then, he breathed, “I love you. I love you so much.”

In the quiet of just the two of them, Vane only stared at him. His mouth opened and closed, without a sound, and then his face crumpled. Tears fell down his face, one after another, until he couldn’t even speak, his sobs heaving at his chest. These were going to be his final breaths – shattered and torn.

A dam had broke and Lancelot continued, as tears spilled over, as his voice began to wane, and yet he did not stop chanting, “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you…”

As light began to claim him back, Lancelot continued, holding him still in his arms, his voice fading into the falling dusk.

“I…”

He was gone.

* * *

It was several weeks before he appeared again. It was always the same spot that Lancelot would visit: an old courtyard in the knights’ barracks, which Lancelot had always fought to keep from being demolished. He didn’t know back then that it was only thanks to Siegfried that he had succeeded. 

Not many people frequented this area, so it was where they always went to hide, under the shade of a colossal tree that bloomed pink in the spring. Ivy had climbed the surrounding walls, time had gnawed away at the wooden benches, and yet the flowers here continued to bloom.

When he was younger, he would bring a seed and plant it, and count the days that passed. Eventually the soil had no more room to give, yet Lancelot still came to the very same spot, everyday without fail. He was the one who had told him their meaning in the language of flowers after all, once upon a time. 

At present, there was a man, a ring on his right hand, sitting in the shade, tending to some forget me nots. A pristine white shirt covered his broad chest, but what was truly special about him were the white wings on his back, as pure as snow. He was glowing – not in the way healthy humans did, but with a light that was otherworldly, a light that Lancelot had learnt to mean that the universe had decided he never belonged here, just like stars were always out of reach.

“Vane…”

He perked up at the sound of his voice, and a grin spread right across his face.

“Hey! It’s nice to meet you, Lancelot!” Vane chirped, jumping to his feet, a chain of flowers limp in his hand, “The name’s Vane! I’ve been assigned your guardian angel!”

Like a puppet on a string.

Lancelot stepped forward, “Promise me. Promise me you'll never sacrifice yourself to save me.” 

Like clockwork.

“Huh? I was totally expecting another reaction…” Vane said, confusion taking over his smile.

Lancelot only continued, the force of a tide, an unstoppable flood, “I want you to value yourself. To live. To never throw your life away.”

“Lancelot?” Vane stared at him, expressionless.

Everything was gone.

“Vane…” Lancelot cursed his voice for trembling, “Why do you do this?”

“It’s my duty,” Vane said, exactly the same as a thousand times before, “I’ll always protect you, Lancelot. No matter the cost.”


End file.
